


High Speed Explosion

by ryukokei



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: AU?, Drinking, Fluff, M/M, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2019-11-01 04:41:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17860490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryukokei/pseuds/ryukokei
Summary: When an engineer decides to go out for a party one night.  Self-indulgent, drabble-esque chapters, possibly more pairings to come, loosely based on old memories of IDW comics. Probably going to skip the war.





	1. HSE 001

Races weren’t really his type of place. Even if his friends did get him in and supplied him with some rather tasty highgrade, so smooth that he didn’t notice that he was on his third cube.

“It’s the same thing the racers drink, Wheeljack!” he had been told excitedly. “They can’t have impurities in their systems, it practically goes down like sparkling grade energon!”

And he did have to admit that they were right. He didn’t even feel the charge, until his pedes started to move. His helmfins flashed alarmingly every time he took a step until he learned it was best to stick to edges. Edge of the room by the wall, edge of counter tops, and definitely the edge of the crowd. Apparently most bots going to the races were partiers, grinding against each other to the pulse of the loud music and the bright lights.

Going slow was best for him. Though that thought made him chuckle to himself. Slow and steady at a racer party. Wasn’t there some story of the gear-tortoise winning a race against a petro-rabbit? Primus, he had been long past sparkling stories that he wasn’t even sure about that any more.

He continued to move slowly around the crowd, pausing when he got to a large gap. To his right was large, clear windows of the race track where the races had ended a short while (hours?) ago, to his left was the crowd, and ahead was the bar top where he could probably order something to help absorb all of the energy running through his systems, maybe some rust sticks.

Rust sticks weren’t too low for a fancy party, right?

Frowning and doing his best to judge the situation, he decided to brave the gap instead of lean against the wall the entire way.

Empty cube in hand and standing straight, he continued across the gap, only one or two wavering steps showing how much he had been affected by the highgrade. He was in reaching distance of the bar when another bot collided with him.

Wheeljack spun on his pedes, feeling his body tilting alarmingly and had mentally braced for impact. An impact that never came.

His optics onlined after a moment and he stared straight up at a handsome mech, one that looked rather surprised. He wasn’t sure if it was from the rather violent bump or the fact that the mech had caught the engineer on the way down, but it didn’t really matter since the surprised smoothed out to a smirk.

“Hey,” the mech purred, the voice washing over Wheeljack in a way that made him shiver. He lifted Wheeljack back up into a standing position, not bothering with pulling away even as the bots neared them cheered and called out to them. Both bots ignored the crowd and the handsome one guided Wheeljack the rest of the way to the bar.

“Sit your pretty aft right down here, I’ll be back in a moment,” he smiled, giving him a wink. Wheeljack watched him move away with a tray full of cubes in hand, a tray that Wheeljack did not see him pick up at all. Did he have the tray the entire time? Before the bump and the rather graceful catch…? Must have excellent reflexes….

Wheeljack shook his head, turning to the bartender and asked if he could have something to nibble on. Moments later, a large tray with a wide arrangement of treats was placed in front of him. Optics brightened at the offering and he immediately went to the fancy looking rust sticks, sighing happily at the first taste. The highgrade was excellent, but the rust sticks probably made the most impact in his processor. The taste, the texture… he could eat these all night long past the party finished up.

He was on the third stick when the handsome came back, leaning casually against the bar. “Here on your own?” he asked, a teasing smile on his lips.

Wheeljack’s optics were wide before he realized he had two sticks sticking out of his mouth and he quickly grabbed them, swallowing the mouthful already there. “Yes? I mean no! Not really!” he flushed. “Some friends invited me, told me to get out of the labs. Parties aren’t really my cube, and I don’t care for racers. I mean, the racers are cool, but I’d rather be in my labs figuring out how their bodies could move so efficiently than just watching or at a party. I don’t really dance and I can’t really enjoy the music.”

“Can’t enjoy the music?” he asked, picking up a rust stick and nibbled on the end.

The engineer got distracted, watching that stick getting devoured, and he shook his head, trying to clear the fuzz. “Hazards of my lab,” he explained. “Audio damage. I can hear a good part of the music, but I can’t really hear the bass. I can feel the bass, but it feels off from what I hear.”

“Ah,” the handsome mech nodded. “I can understand that. I don’t listen to this type of music myself, just at these parties I work. I’ll be heading out shortly. Would you like to head to my place and hear what I have?” He offered, optic ridge quirked in a rather dashing way.

Well, his friends did say he needed to meet more bots…

“It might be a while before I get rid of this charge,” he warned.

“That’s alright,” handsome grinned. “I get paid well enough that I can get us a transport.” When Wheeljack put another stick in his mouth, the mech leaned forward, taking a bite of the other end, their lips brushing together for the briefest moment. “Let me get the okay to leave and we’ll head out,” he purred before pushing away from the bar again, weaving through the crowd.

Wheeljack watched him with bright optics before turning back to the bar and quickly ate more rust sticks. He was use to fumbling over himself in an attempt of flirting, but to be flirted with so openly…

\----

A faint groan of pain escaped Wheeljack as the engineer turned over on the berth, burying his face in a luxuriously soft pillow. His memories of the night before were rather limited. The party, the handsome mech catching him, the proposal over rust sticks…

Leaving the party and getting in a rather fancy transport. The handsome mech was a bit handsy, but those hands stayed at waist level. Getting out of the transport and up to the apartment. The music chips, the teasing of tastes, the singing, the kissing….

Helmfins glowed bright pink when he remembered the kissing. Handsome was a very good kisser, and just thinking about it made him moan and shiver with a bit of want.

The dull ache of his frame reminded him of the drinking he did the night before and he did a quick catalogue of what he felt. Residual energy from the highgrade, a bit of a processor ache, but not the ache of interfacing..?

He sat up quickly, almost tumbling off of the large berth. The thing was huge, but he had been at the very edge. A glance to the other side made him frown. Either the mech made his berth up with interface partners still asleep, or he wasn’t there at all, because the blankets were unruffled.

He didn’t really pay attention to where they were going last night so it was rather surprising when he looked out the large windows to see Iacon’s sprawling buildings covering the grounds. Wheeljack stood up carefully, walking over to the windows and pressed his face against the cool material.

Behind him, the door to the room opened and he turned, staring at his handsome mech. “How much do waiters get paid?” he asked, shock in his voice.

The mech blinked before laughing, taking a moment to control himself. “Sweetspark, I’m not a waiter. I’m the mech who won the race last night!” The mech didn’t appear to be offended for being mistaken for a waiter, but that barely registered to Wheeljack.

Faint panic settled into Wheeljack’s tank as he glanced around the room quickly. Eventually, his processor and his vocalizor settled for, “Who won last night?”

That set handsome off on another bout of laughter.


	2. HSE002

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Next Day

Wheeljack felt self conscious as he walked the halls of the academy, slipping into Perceptor’s lab, and nearly jumping out of his playing when the scientist spoke.

“Good to see you in one piece.” Optics flickered over his frame. “And untouched…?”

The second part came out as a question and Wheeljack flushed, helmfins turning a faint pink. “Yes. Blurr was very adamant that he doesn’t touch a bot that’s overcharged.”

“Good,” Perceptor nodded. “In my interaction with Blurr, he has always been respectful.”

“You’ve met him?”

“Of course. He’s the one paying for my research for a cleaner fuel.” He moved around the lab, writing down results and it took a moment of looking around for Wheeljack to know that his friend was working on an academy project. “He sells the special high grade version at the race track bar to pay for it. Never thought that researching fuel would be a main source of income,” he hummed.

Wheeljack sighed and moved, sitting down in his “out of the way” spot. He simply watched Perceptor, a routine his processor can handle, though he scowled when the other spoke again.

“For an early riser, you came back in late.”

“Maybe I showered and worked on my project.” When silence met his words, he sighed. “I showered at his place and we talked for quite a while. Perce, I thought he was a waiter at that bar… it was embarrassing!”

“He is a waiter,” Perceptor said. “That’s his bar. He apparently works after races because he’s one of those types that enjoys mingling and being among crowds.” Confusion colored his words, as if he didn’t understand the appeal of crowds.

“It was still embarrassing. He’s obviously a famous racer and I had no idea who he is! I need to find out more before tomorrow!”

“Tomorrow?” Perceptor paused in his work and smirked faintly. “Did he woo you into a date?”

“No!” He said immediately before begrudgingly changing it to “....yes.” He sighed. “I forced him to promise nothing super fancy because I’m going to be paying for my half.”

“You realize that if he takes you back to his bar, neither one of you will have to pay anything, probably,” he offered, glancing at his friend and chuckling softly at the scowl.

“I’m going to do more research,” Wheeljack muttered before getting to his pedes and heading to his own labs.

\----

The racer’s entire life was available for anyone with a net connection, it looked like. Where he was born, how old he was, pics throughout the years of various paint jobs and armor designs he wore, when he got into racing, when he got the bar.

Who he dated…

It practically looked like Blurr had a different femme or mech on his arm everyday, mostly big name actors, singers, or even other racers. There were a few images of him with nobles, but not as many. Still, it made Wheeljack feel plain and boring compared to all of the dazzling paint jobs and armor decorations.

He squirmed in his seat when he saw himself with Blurr. Someone got a pic of the speedster catching him when they bumped into each other, Wheeljack dipped close to the floor and a perfectly balanced tray of drinks in his other hand. There was even a few pics of when Blurr went back to the bar to get him, though those were fuzzy and distant.

Luckily, Wheeljack wasn’t really famous and so no one really knew who he was or able to find information on him. He was a bit surprised that the friends that brought him to the party didn’t tell all, but he was grateful.

Optics flickered between the image of himself and of Blurr’s own easy grin and he absently grabbed one of his masks. His digits fussed over the edges before he clicked it in place. He mainly wore it while he worked (kept him from holding dangerous things in his mouth and protect him from anything that might spat out electricity or corrosive liquids), but compared to a handsome celebrity, it felt like the faint scars stood out like a warning light.

He knew Blurr for less than a day and he was already feeling jealous of the various femmes and mechs he saw.

He did see one article, Perceptor and Blurr standing in the bar and talking about the racer grade energon they had developed, and the jealousy shifted to pride. Any bot can make mid grade from a cube of energon, but it took a lot more knowledge to make energon good enough for a racer’s delicate system…

With a faint sigh, he left the news article and began to read about Blurr’s other dates, trying to see if he could glean any info on what Blurr was like, or what he liked in a date...


	3. HSE 003

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Advice

Blurr hummed softly as he shifted the knee over his thigh, using a pick to get minute grit out of the more sensitive seams and vents. He wiped the small tool constantly, wanting his leg clean, not to redistribute the dirt.

“So, you’re really going to take that bot on a date,” a voice to his left stated, a faint air of distaste coloring his words.

“I know he’s not the newest actor or the biggest name on the news, but he’s very cute!” Blurr defended. “Besides, he works with Perceptor, and he doesn’t take slag from anyone.”

Sunstreaker sneered faintly. “Scientists….”

“Hey, you like Perceptor’s energon. Besides, Wheeljack is an engineer. Still a scientist of sorts, but more on the mechanical side. I think…” He shrugged and gave his leg one more look over before reconnecting the knee joint and hooking the wires back together. He twisted his leg and ankle every which way before he nodded in satisfaction.

“He’s probably going to fumble at any restaurant you take him too,” Sunstreaker smirked.

“Now that’s just mean,” Blurr scowled. “Besides, you know that news drones are at all of those types of places. I’ll be taking him somewhere that won’t have someone waiting to take a pic of the next dribble or messy face. I want it to be us, not us and most of Iacon.”

“Where are you going?”

“Sideswipe gave me a few suggestions.”

“I’m not sure I’d trust any place Sideswipe suggests…”

——

The drive to the address Wheeljack gave him the other day was rather uneventful, which he was grateful for. The waiting for him was a bit more awkward. He had to check into the front desk and the starstruck bot sitting behind it had to be reminded to call the engineer.

Wheeljack must have been waiting for him because he was already coming down the hall, giving him a short, hesitant wave in greeting. Despite the mask covering half of his face, he was able to see the smile beneath and Blurr smiled back in return. Honestly, he had feared that Wheeljack would call off the date.

“So,” Wheeljack started. “Do I get to know where we’re going?”

“Not until we get there,” Blurr said, taking his hand and guiding him to the front of the building. Just as they exited, the transport pulled up and Blurr opened the door. “It’ll ruin the surprise.” He got in after Wheeljack and entered the place into the computer, relaxing back as the transport pulled away smoothly. “If I may ask, any reason behind the mask today?”

Wheeljack shifted and glanced away. “I looked up stuff about you on the net, considering I knew absolutely nothing about you.” He rubbed at his leg armor. “There were a lot of pics of you with a lot of attractive bots.”

“Ah,” he hummed. “I can understand that. But you do realize that I’m with you and not them,” he smiled charmingly. “Granted, I am still friends with quite a few of them. Do you remember any pictures of me with a red or a yellow mech?”

Wheeljack snorted faintly, his posture a bit more relaxed. “I remember a lot of pictures of both of them with you.”

“Twins. Still friends with them. Sideswipe enjoys his own spotlight and Sunstreaker prefers a quiet place to paint and create art. Sideswipe actually suggested the place for today’s date. And I know Sunstreaker will have a show soon. If you still like me at that time, we can go see his art together.”

He shook his head. “But that isn’t why I asked. I was trying to say that you shouldn’t feel self conscious about your looks, but you’re also welcome to wear the mask. I’ve had enough bots telling me how to look, I don’t want to dictate your image.”

“Hard not to be self conscious when some of those bots look like precious gems and the best that money can buy. They don’t have any scuffs on their frame, let alone scars.”

“Well, where we’re going, you can just think of me as the waiter from a fancy bar.” The transport slowed to a stop and he opened the door, stepping out and offering a hand to Wheeljack. He took it after a moment and climbed out as well.

The bright lights and sounds startled him for a moment and Blurr could see the realization crossing Wheeljack’s face. “...an arcade?”

Blurr gave a small shrug, chuckling. “Hard for the camera drones to get any pics or vids, we can have fun and relax, and the food here is pretty cheap and fun,” he admitted. “Though I might not be any good at the games. It’s been forever since I’ve done anything like these.”

“Same could be said for me,” Wheeljack smiled back. “But we’ll see if we find anything fun. There has to be at least one game in here that we’ll like.”


End file.
